


For Sam

by Syrum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I'm not sure about those last two, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, M/M, Not a death fic, POV Gabriel, Suicidal Thoughts, no one actually dies, not yet at least, tagging just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: He knows he'll break soon, but that's alright.  He won't be here to see it.





	For Sam

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the first Supernatural fic I expected (or intended) to post. Heck, it's not even the first Sabriel fic I had intended on posting! But, it happened, and while I'm unable to continue my existing stories this will have to suffice.

He’s tearing apart at the seams.  He knows it, can feel it, what’s left of his grace slipping through the cracks and away like grains of sand in the wind.  A broken vase, water trickling through holes that have been smoothed over and fixed one too many times already, taking pieces of himself as the torrent grows stronger and his will falters.

He knows he'll break soon, but that's alright.  He won't be here to see it.

He has made his peace.  This isn’t what he had wanted, but that was alright too.  He's starting to get used to not having what he wants; freedom.  A family. A home.

Love.

At least, this is a choice he can make himself.  One that hasn't been forced on him, a route he can take of his own volition.  Like old times.

Castiel is looking at him like he knows, and maybe he does.  The kid is far more astute than most give him credit for, when he tries.  He has his own concerns however, his own needs and desires - and really, who could hope to hold the younger angel’s attention for long when Dean was in the room?

Dean might know, knows something isn’t entirely right at least.  He hasn’t asked though, and he won’t, and maybe that’s for the best.  If Dean doesn’t ask, he won’t have to lie.

Sam is still regarding him through the coloured filter that is his own pain, his own memories.  This whole thing has clearly cut a little too close to the bone, and he can see just how much Sam aches, wishing he could change even some small part of all this and knowing that he cannot.  He can feel how the younger Winchester’s eyes are drawn to him whenever they share space together, watching and wary in a way that makes his clothes itch and his skin crawl. It’s not the distrust he’s used to, it’s a sort of understanding pity that he doesn’t quite know how to handle.

Sam has _seen things_ and he _knows_.

The hand at his elbow lingers in passing, fingers at the pulse point of his wrist too briefly and he knows that the look of abject longing in his eyes is too bright, too open, impossible to miss and he’s just glad Sam hasn’t turned back to look at him.  Sam _cannot_ know this.  Cannot suspect that it’s mutual, because he knows how Sam would try to give everything he has and Gabriel has nothing to offer in return.

Not any more.

That’s alright though, because Sam won’t know, won’t suspect.  Which means he can break in peace, shatter into stardust as he knows Castiel has for Dean a thousand times over.

For Sam, because some things are worth fighting for.  And others are worth breaking for.


End file.
